


Mob City ficlets

by linndechir



Category: Mob City
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:19:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several unrelated Mob City ficlets I wrote over the past few months and only posted on tumblr. I thought I should finally repost them here, but since they're not particularly long, I'm posting them together.</p><p>Some of them are Sid/Ned, some Ben/Sid, one is a not really serious Ben/Ned fic, and there's some Ned-centric gen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sid/Ned: Get Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Sid/Ned, Get Me (a drabble about one character saving another)"

“Thanks for bailing me out,” Sid said as they walked out of the police station, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He'd only spent a couple of hours locked up, but that had been more than enough to make him appreciate being outside again.

“I didn't bail you out,” Ned said with a smug little smile. Got into his car, waited for Sid to slide into the passenger's seat before he lit a cigarette. “They didn't have anything solid, that was just the usual scare tactics. I told them what kind of an institutional shitstorm I'd bring down on them if they didn't let you go immediately.”

Sid laughed softly.

“Thanks for that then.” He relaxed into the seat. “You'd think at some point they'd stop hoping that I'd suddenly get scared of a couple of cops glaring at me and admit to anything.”

“You still have to clean up this mess. Where do you wanna go?”

“Home first. I need a shower and a clean suit before I take care of this.” Sid closed his eyes against the bright sunlight, enjoyed the wind on his face when Ned started driving. Not like Ned needed to be told where Sid lived, considering how much time he spent there. After dropping him off, Ned stayed in his car, sunglasses still over his eyes.

“You in a hurry to be somewhere?” Sid asked as he got out of the car.

“No, why?”

“Then come on in for a bit.” Sid smirked, a promising dirty little smirk that had Ned out of the car just a moment later, his hand brushing over the small of Sid's back as they walked the last few steps towards the house.

“Are you gonna thank me for saving you?” Ned said once they were inside. He took off his sunglasses and put his hat on the coatrack, didn't bother to hide his smile when Sid stepped closer the moment he had locked the door, his body crowding Ned's into the wall.

“You could put it that way,” Sid's voice had dropped to a low growl close to Ned's ear, his hand came to rest on the back of Ned's neck, as it so often did. Ned wondered if Sid generally liked to choke and grab people there or if he just had a thing for Ned's neck. “Or maybe I just need some cheering up after spending half of my day around brainless cops.”

“I'm going to be a mess if you fuck me now,” Ned said in his best lawyer voice, all even and smooth, and Sid chuckled.

“Guess I'll have to fuck your mouth then.”

“That would cheer you up, but how would that be thanking me?” This time Ned's voice faltered a little when Sid increased the pressure on his neck. Sometimes he hated how easy it was for Sid to get him going, Sid and his deep voice and those strong hands that weren't only damn good at killing people – at killing for him – but also took such obvious pleasure in it.

“As if you didn't like that, boy,” Sid said, voice gravelly and amused. His thumb brushed over Ned's lips, pushed between them. “Half the time I don't even have to do anything for you after fucking your mouth, you just can't keep your hands off yourself.”

“Ah.” Ned turned his head aside, cleared his throat. “Fair enough.”

He sank to his knees before Sid even had to push him down, licked his lips while he opened Sid's fly. Nuzzled his cock through the soft fabric of his underwear, smiled when he felt Sid's fingers twitch lightly against his neck. Sid never really got loud in bed, for all that he obviously enjoyed himself. Ned wondered what he'd have to do to make Sid lose control as completely as Ned did almost every time with him.

“You'd better fuck me tonight, though,” Ned mumbled against Sid's crotch, felt him getting hard. “Otherwise I'll let you rot in jail next time.”

“Wouldn't want that,” Sid said, still amused, before his fingers dug painfully into Ned's neck muscles. Ned considered teasing him a little, but he decided that Sid really didn't deserve that after the crappy day he'd already had. He'd still get ample opportunity for that later.


	2. Ben/Sid: Stars

“It's just a desert now, but you gotta imagine a city here, neon lights everywhere, one casino next to the other, luxury hotels – we'll make more money than we'll be able to spend in our lifetime.” 

Ben was pacing, gesturing wildly, as if he could already see the city he was going to build around him. He probably could. He had a vision, quite literally, and all that separated him from turning it into reality was time and money. Sid listened quietly, sitting on the hood of Ben's car, legs stretched out. The night air was cool, cold almost, but after the heat of the day it was a welcome reprieve. He didn't say anything – knew that Ben didn't really expect him to. Ben just wanted someone to listen to him, and Sid was fine with doing just that. 

“And you know what the best thing is, Sid?” Ben turned around to look at him, stopped in front of the car. “It'll all be legal. We can invite the damn cops in and give them a tour.”

“I'll be out of work then,” Sid said with a smirk. Ben laughed.

“Don't worry. Where there's money, there'll always be people who need a bullet in the head. Even if it's legal money”

Sid nodded. He was leaning back on the hood of the car, propped up on his elbows, eyes raised to the black sky rather than the empty desert around them.

“I like the stars out here,” he said. 

“What?” Ben stopped short, brow furrowed.

“The stars,” Sid repeated. “You never see them like this in the city, the lights are too bright there.” He stretched out his hand, gestured for Ben to come closer. “C'mere.”

Ben stepped closer until Sid's hand touched his forearm, fingers wrapped around it loosely. Sid skidded a little to the side to make room on the hood, waited for Ben to sit down with him. The metal was still pleasantly warm from the engine, a nice contrast to the cold air.

“You don't get a sky like that in L.A. Or back in New York,” Sid said, never taking his eyes off the stars. They were sitting close, their shoulders and thighs brushing, but there was nothing uncomfortable about that. “Won't look like that anymore once you got your neon lights everywhere.”

“You should enjoy it while it lasts then,” Ben said with a smile, slung his arm around Sid's shoulders. He'd always been taller than Sid, broader too, and Sid fit just right under his arm.

“That's what I'm doing.” Sid relaxed against him, cocked his head back until it rested against Ben's shoulder so he wouldn't have to strain his neck quite so much to look up.

They barely touched anymore these days, not like they used to. Not because they had ever decided to stop, but simply because they had lost their old opportunities to do so. When they had been children they had spent countless winter nights huddled together in bed because their families had been too poor to afford proper heating and the other's body warmth was all they had. Sid had always liked that, sleeping with his back against Ben's chest, but there hadn't been any need for that since the early 20s. 

As they got older, they'd shared girls sometimes – girls Ben had picked up, usually, and charmed into agreeing to let his friend come along. Sometimes they'd taken turns screwing the girl, sometimes they had screwed her at the same time, and neither of them ever minded if their hands touched on the girl's smooth skin where they held her between them. Sometimes they'd just fallen asleep after that, and Ben had somehow always ended up with the girl on one side and Sid on the other. When they woke up in the morning, Ben's arms were more often than not both wrapped around Sid, but that was just how it was. A remnant from the nights they had spent sleeping together as boys. For all that Ben knew Sid fucked men about as often as he fucked women, it had never been awkward. They were too close for that.

But as time passed, and they got richer, there hadn't been any need to share anymore, not when enough pretty girls threw themselves at both of them every night. Sharing girls became just a memory from a poorer past, just like sharing a bed.

And Sid wouldn't say that he missed it, not as such, not when he still saw Ben every day, not when they still spent so much time together. But even so, he enjoyed those rare moments of closeness, a reminder of a time when it had been just them and Meyer against the rest of the world. They'd been poor as hell, but those were still good memories.

He let out a deep breath, eyes still on the stars in the sky, but mostly focused on the sensation of Ben's hand on his arm, Ben's shoulder under his cheek.

“You all right, Sid?” 

“Just fine.”

“I still think we should find you a girl,” Ben said. He didn't sound too serious. It was just something he said occasionally to tease Sid.

“I've got girls.”

“Nah, I mean the kind of girl you can go star-gazing with. The kind you keep around for a while, the kind that knows what you like and doesn't spread her legs for anyone else.”

Sid snorted, shook his head a little.

“You know I don't need that.” He grinned. “Your mistresses are enough trouble already, no need for me to get myself some, too.”

“Oh, come on, they aren't that much trouble.”

Sid pulled away from Ben just enough to give him a pointed look.

“The last one tried to blackmail you, and that's not the first time that has happened.”

“Yeah, and you shot her, Sid. You didn't have to shoot her.”

“She threatened you, of course I had to shoot her.” Sid sank back against Ben's shoulder. They had this conversation every time Ben brought that particular girl up, although he hadn't really been mad about it since the first time. At this point it was more of a joke than anything else. They were quiet again for a while, leaning into each other, while Sid was enjoying the view and Ben was imagining what this place would look like when he was done with it.

“We should head back before it gets too cold out here,” Ben said finally, and even though Sid didn't really want to move he knew Ben was right. He stayed where he was for just a few more seconds before he sat up and slid off the hood. 

The drive back to the landing strip was much the same as the rest of the night, but unlike on their way here, when Sid hadn't been sure why Ben had even insisted on dragging him along, Sid thought that he should maybe accompany Ben on his trips more often.


	3. Sid/Ned: Playing the Melody

Ned only realises he must have dozed off when he wakes up again to the sound of a single violin, the notes too clear and too close for a recording. He doesn't recognise the piece, but it's beautiful, slow and soft and sad, not an angry desperate sadness, but quietly mournful. Ned opens his eyes against the dim light. Sid is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned to Ned so all Ned can see is the movement of his shoulder and arm muscles. He's still wearing his undershirt, not that he ever takes it off in bed. Ned wouldn't have expected Sid Rothman to be self-conscious about anything, but he always keeps that scar on his torso covered, as if Ben didn't tell everyone about where it came from anyway.

The way he's lying on the bed, naked and a little cold, with sweat drying on his back and come on his thighs, Ned feels vulnerable and exposed, but he doesn't dare to move, doesn't want to startle Sid. It's rare to see him like this. For all that they've slept with each other often enough to stop counting the times, there's rarely been anything intimate about it. Sid fucks the way he kills – like something he enjoys doing, but that's ultimately impersonal. Ned can't remember ever catching him in a moment that feels as private as this, so as exposed as he may be, Sid is exposing himself just as much.

He listens in silence, wants to keep watching the play of muscles under Sid's skin, but it's hard to focus on anything but the music, and he half closes his eyes again, only opens them when the last note fades away. Too soon, Ned thinks. It was nice, getting a private performance like that, and he wonders if it'll ever happen again, or if this was just one of Sid's weird little whims.

His cheeks flush when Sid turns to look down at him, the violin resting on his knee, a relaxed smile on his lips. The smile looks good on him, and Ned feels a ridiculous urge to caress Sid's face. Probably better that he's still lying down.

“Did I wake you?” Sid asks, and Ned is pretty sure it's the first time he's ever heard Sid Rothman ask a stupid question. Sid seems to realise it the moment he says it, adds with a little smirk, “You mind?”

“No.” Ned stretches his muscles – sore in all the right places – and with Sid's eyes on his body he somehow feels less awkward about being naked in his bed. He likes the way Sid looks at him far too much, hungry and wanting and downright insatiable, when Ned expected him to get bored after a few fucks. “Didn't know you still played.”

Sid laughs softly. His fingers ghost over the wood of the violin, those thick, strong fingers, and Ned always knew how capable they were at inflicting pain, but he hadn't suspected they were so nimble. Sid touches his violin with a tenderness he rarely spares for Ned's skin.

“Didn't want all those years of practising to go to waste.” Another laugh, and there's genuine mirth in his eyes. That, too, is not something Ned sees often. “Besides, I always liked it. It's soothing.”

Part of Ned wonders what the hell Sid would need soothing from when the man has nerves of steel, but then again Sid probably means that it keeps him from killing more people, not that he needs soothing over those he's already killed.

“It is,” Ned simply agrees. He's less on edge than he usually is after they've finished, feels less like a lamb just waiting to be slaughtered. It's hard to believe that he can just have this without any repercussions, but maybe it is time he stopped worrying. “You're pretty good at it, too.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, accepting it more like a fact than a compliment. Ned moves to sit up, but he doesn't get far before Sid shifts, turning his body more towards him, violin and bow held in his right hand while his left pats his thigh. 

“Come here, boy.” It's not an order, but Sid never needs to order Ned to do anything in bed, and certainly not when he calls him _boy_ in that low growl that makes Ned's breath catch because he's used to hearing it against his neck, followed by a sharp bite into the soft flesh right behind his ear. So he moves before he even thinks about it, only hesitates at the last moment, but Sid's fingers tighten on his neck and guide Ned's head to his thigh, and once Ned gets over how weirdly, almost uncomfortably intimate this is, he actually finds himself relaxing into the warmth, into Sid's smell. Sex and sweat and Ned's cigarette smoke clinging to Sid's skin, it's the smell of getting the one thing he never thought he could afford to have.

Sid's fingers linger for a minute or two, caressing Ned's neck, the small hollow at the base of his skull, then following down along his spine. Their touch is far more tender than usual, actually reminding Ned of how they brushed over the violin before. Ned can't remember the last time someone touched him like that, like something precious, and he knows it must have been too long because it doesn't even bother him that all Sid is doing is getting his hands on something pretty and making it his. It's all right, though, Ned thinks, they both still get what they want, that's why they both keep coming back for more.

He sighs and closes his eyes when Sid's hand leaves his skin to pick up the violin again, and the melody he plays this time is a little more upbeat, cheerful almost. Ned smiles, and if he's smiling against Sid's skin, well, there's nothing wrong with letting Sid know he's appreciated.


	4. Ben/Sid (and that time Sid took a knife for Ben)

"You fucking idiot."

It's the first thing Sid hears when he wakes up. There's a dull ache in his head and yet it feels numb at the same time, his mouth is dry, his body feels like he hasn't moved in a century. He blinks against the too bright light, sees Benny's face, Ben's eyes filled with almost hysterical relief, smiling the way a man smiles just after escaping certain death. Like it's Ben who got sliced open like a pig at the slaughterhouse.

Sid opens his mouth, but all he can get out is a croaking sound.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Ben says, full of so much anger and just as much love, and he squeezes Sid's hand almost painfully. Sid's memory feels fuzzy from the pain meds they must have given him here in the hospital, but he's starting to remember. That stupid argument with a rival gang about nothing important, the flash of a knife aimed at Ben's ribs, the searing pain as Sid stepped forward and pushed Ben behind himself in the same movement. And blood, blood, so much blood. He touches his own stomach gingerly, feels bandages under his fingers. Ben pushes his hand aside.

"You almost died, you fucking idiot. Two fucking weeks, Sid! Two fucking weeks and I didn't know if you were gonna live or die! Don't you ever fucking do that to me again!" Ben sounds like he's going to cry, except Ben never cries, but there are tears in his eyes now. He leans down until his forehead touches Sid's, and somehow that eases the unpleasantly numb feeling in Sid's body. He sighs softly. Ben shifts a little, lets his nose brush against Sid's. It's a brief touch at first, something they've been doing since they were children, but this time Ben doesn't pull away immediately, keeps touching Sid's nose with his, all tenderly. Sid wants him to stop crying, wants to tell him it's okay, that he's gonna be okay, even though he has frankly no idea if that's true.

He was so sure he'd die when he sank to the ground with his entire torso cut open. Ben had held him as he lay on the floor, pressed his forehead against Sid's then, too, and Sid hadn't expected to open his eyes again when he closed them. Turns out he's harder to kill than he thought.

"Is he awake?" Meyer's voice, from the door of the hospital room. Always so calm and collected, so serious, but Sid can hear the concern even in his words. "Christ, Benny, give him some space, and a glass of water."

Meyer moves to the bedside to pour some water into the cup there. Ben only sits up reluctantly, keeps stroking Sid's hair. Sid tries to smile, even though his lips are dry and moving his face hurts. 

"You fucking idiot," Ben says again, mumbling through the tears this time. Sid has no regrets, he'd die for Ben in a heartbeat. But he promises himself that he won't until there's no other way, not if it'd hurt Benny that much.

 

* * * * *

 

It's weeks before they let Sid out of the hospital. Ben takes him home with him, doesn't want Sid to go back to that empty little place he's still living in even now that his parents are gone. Sid doesn't protest, even though they're far too big these days to share Ben's narrow bed. But they make do - they've always managed before and they manage now, Sid curled up small in Ben's arms, back against Ben's broad chest and Ben's face in his hair. It's warm and safe and it reminds him of why he stepped into that knife in the first place.

Even after that Sid isn't supposed to get out of bed for months, his body too weak to take the strain, the healing too slow. He feels useless as all hell, especially once he's well enough to be left alone and Ben starts going out again, and it's not that Sid begrudges him that - he's glad Ben isn't wasting all his time anymore sitting by his bedside like a fretting old woman - it's just that Sid hates not being able to go with him and protect him. He trusts Meyer, but he also knows that Meyer is not the kind of guy to shield Ben with his own body.

Once the bandages come off, Ben's fascinated by the scar. It's red and thick and ugly and it makes Sid feel like he's some disfigured villain from a fairytale, and not in a good way. Ben can't seem to get enough of it.

"Take off your shirt," he says, every evening when they're in bed together. He helps Sid sit up, strong arms supporting him and pulling the shirt over his head. Sid's too weak to resist, not that he'd ever really resist Ben. Ben's arms are bare and warm against his skin as Sid lies down again, on his back while Ben presses against his side, long fingers ghosting over the fresh scar. He can spend hours like that, just petting Sid's chest and stomach, warm breath tickling Sid's face, while Sid strokes Ben's hair. Eventually Sid always relaxes, the pleasant feeling of Ben's hands more than making up for the discomfort of having that ugly scar stared at.

"Why did you do it?" Ben asks one night. He's asked before, when Sid was still in the hospital, all angry and hysterical and not really expecting an answer. But he sounds calmer now that Sid is on the mend, now that he's finally stopped worrying about losing him.

"Do what?" Sid asks. Ben's forehead is leaning against his, they're so close they could kiss, and sometimes Sid wishes Ben would do just that. It'd be warm and gentle, nothing like with the girls or boys Sid usually kisses, but Ben's lips only ever meet his forehead or his temples.

"You know what." Ben splays his palm over Sid's chest, covering part of the scar. "It wasn't an accident. You pushed me away and walked into that knife like you wanted to get stabbed." He sounds worried now, like a sudden thought occurred to him. "You didn't want to die, did you?"

"Why would I want to die, that'd be stupid." And really, why would he when he has this? Ben could make anyone feel like they're the centre of the world, like the sun is shining only for them, and that's with people he doesn't even give a damn about. The way he looks at Sid is pure bliss, like he needs Sid as much as Sid needs him. Sid sighs. "Couldn't let anything happen to you, Ben. You'd do the same for me."

And Sid turns his head a little to look at him. Ben's first instinct is to say, "yeah, sure", the way he'd say it to anyone else, with the kind of smile that makes people melt, but before he opens his mouth he realises that he actually means it. He's never thought about it before, realises only then that Sid didn't even ask him if he would, but stated it, like he never doubted Ben for a second. Like Sid knows him better than Ben himself does. 

"I would," Ben says, fits his lips against Sid's neck as he says the words. 

"Wouldn't want you to," Sid replies and smiles, covers Ben's hand on his chest with his own. "No point in me trying to keep you safe if you get yourself killed for me."

"I'm not some girl you need to protect, Sid," Ben is offended, just a little bit. "This goes both ways, all right? Nothing you wouldn't do for me, nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I owe you one after this."

"You don't owe me nothing, Benny." _Benny_ , and Sid barely ever calls him that, it's _Ben_ usually, _Chaye_ when he's teasing him, but Sid's voice is all soft now, still weaker than it used to be, and he looks up to meet Ben's eyes. "No heroics next time we get in a fight just to make a point."

"Someone comes at you, Sid, I'll kill him." And it's not overblown machismo that makes Ben say that, he means it as much as that he'd die for Sid. He's killed the guy who sliced Sid open, and next time he won't wait until his best friend is almost dead before murdering any bastard who dares to go against them. He touches the edges of Sid's scar again, where it leads down from his chest to his stomach.

"I know," Sid says with a half fond, half exasperated smile. "Just don't get yourself killed because you don't want to owe me. This? You and me? It's just like it's supposed to be."

Sid waits for Ben to nod before he gingerly turns onto his side, and they've been together for so long that their bodies fit into each other perfectly, like they aren't two grown men trying to get comfortable on a single bed. Ben's arms wrap around Sid's body to hold him close to his chest, one of his legs slides between Sid's, and Sid's toes curl a little against Ben's foot like they always do. There's barely an inch of room left on either side of the bed, but they're comfortable, know that when one of them moves during the night the other one just moves with him in his sleep. Ben spends more time sleeping curled up with his girls these days than with Sid, but none of them fit against his body as easily as Sid does. Ben keeps one hand on Sid's stomach, lets the palm of the other rest against Sid's throat just to feel his steady pulse under his fingertips. Strong and regular, even though Sid's body still feels disturbingly skinny in his arms from months in bed.

"You need to get back on your feet," Ben says after a while. "It's no fun out there without you."

"Tell me about it. It's no fun in here even with you," Sid snorts, chuckles when Ben makes the kind of outraged little sound that would have been accompanied with a slight punch in the side if Sid hadn't been laid up.

"Ungrateful bastard," Ben just says without loosening his embrace. He makes a mental note to bring a girl to suck Sid off next time, decides that Sid is well enough for that at least. Sid chuckles again and winces, still in pain when he laughs too much. Ben strokes his hair the way Sid likes it, and sure enough it makes Sid relax again, his breath slowing down until he's asleep in Ben's arms. It's early in the evening, and Sid still spends a good part of his time sleeping, like it's the only way his body can find strength again. It's fairly boring, staying with Sid when he's asleep, but that night Ben doesn't really feel like leaving him to find someone else's company, so he stays where he is, listens to Sid's breathing and simply appreciates that he still can.


	5. Ben/Ned: Dream a little dream of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is somewhat cheesy and silly Ben/Ned porn, which I could only write while pretending that it's Ned's porn fantasy (otherwise there would have been a lot more “I'm not gay, Ben, how could you possibly think that?” protesting, but as Ned's jerk-off fantasy I think it works). But if you want to imagine it really happened, just ignore the last paragraph. ;) Includes some brief mentions of Ben/Sid and Sid/Ned, but I'll leave it up to you whether that really happened or is just part of Ned's fantasy.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Ned asked as he joined Ben in Mickey's office at the Clover. A moment later he found himself with a whiskey glass in his hand, and he smiled a little. He didn't think he'd ever talked to Ben without being offered a drink first.

Ben sipped on his own drink and leant back against the broad desk, blue eyes on Ned. He looked as worried as Ben ever did.

“Yeah. What's been going on with you and Sid?”

Ned swallowed hard, hid his face behind the whiskey glass. The last thing he needed was for Ben to figure out just what exactly had been going on between them. Or worse, for Sid to have told Ben despite Ned asking him not to.

“What do you mean?”

“The way you two are glaring at each other, the bickering …” Ben sighed. “Listen, if Sid is giving you trouble, I can tell him to back off. He doesn't mean anything by it, he's just … protective of me. He never trusts the new guys, but he'll warm up to you.”

Ned bit back a relieved sigh and sipped on his whiskey, shrugged.

“It's fine, Ben, don't worry about it. I can live with Sid not liking me all that much.”

“Don't even know why he wouldn't like you,” Ben snorted and finished his glass. He pushed himself away from the desk and stepped closer to Ned. Ben didn't really respect anyone's personal space, and Ned didn't think he'd ever get fully used to how close Ben always came to him, close enough for Ned to smell his cigars and his aftershave, and the next moment Ben wrapped his arm around Ned's shoulders. Ned knew he didn't mean anything by it, it was just the way he was, but feeling Ben's large hand on his shoulder still made him shudder a little.

“I mean, you two aren't even all that different, you and Sid,” Ben continued. Ned almost coughed out his whiskey. Ben laughed. “When it comes down to it, you both do the same thing, no? You fix problems for me. Sid with his hands, you with your mouth.”

Ben's other hand reached up to Ned's face, patted his cheek softly, and then just stayed there. And Ned hated that Ben would casually say things that sounded so goddamn dirty (he still remembered that time at Ben's house, when Ben had pulled him close just like this and said “we should really have some fun now that it's just you and me” and called in a few girls the next second). He swallowed again.

“I'm pretty sure Sid would mind being compared to me,” he said nervously as Ben's thumb touched his chin.

“Like I said, Sid is protective.” Ben smiled, fondly, and Ned knew that smile was more for Sid than for him. “Just give him some time to get used to you. He will. You're both mine, and he's usually not the jealous type.”

A shiver went up Ned's spine at those words, and he wished Ben would just stop touching him, but it didn't look like Ben was going anywhere. He just stepped closer, his large thumb brushing up against Ned's lips, his touch so much more tender than when Sid did the same thing. His other hand had moved from Ned's shoulder down to his side, and Ned had never felt small before, but he did under Ben's hands. It didn't help that Ben had to bow his head down a little until his nose brushed against Ned's.

“You are, aren't you?” Ben asked softly, a sly little smile playing around his lips. Lips Ned had seen wrapped around a cigar far too often not to get distracted now. “Mine.”

Ned knew he should say something, about how he was loyal to Ben, of course, but that he didn't really know what else Ben could possibly mean, but he didn't trust his voice to stay calm and even, not when Ben's grip on his hip tightened. And he loved the soft tone of Ben's voice. Despite his words he didn't sound possessive, but downright tender, the way he always did when he thanked Ned for his good work, when he asked Ned to stick around for another drink, to come have dinner with him and his family that weekend. That voice made Ned feel more appreciated than he ever had before in his life, like Ben looked at him and didn't only see someone useful, but someone truly valuable. Someone worth caring about. Sid looked at him like a toy or a pet, Ben looked at him like Ned was the little brother he'd never had.

At least until the point where he leant down and pressed his lips against Ned's, a gentle kiss that turned Ned's knees soft within a mere second, and he grabbed Ben's shoulders to hold on to him. Ben's hand had slid down from his cheek to his throat, but there was no threat in that touch – if anything it felt comforting, safe, the way those strong fingers curled around his neck while Ben deepened the kiss. He was a good kisser, unsurprisingly, gentle and considerate, unlike Sid who'd always bite him more than he kissed him. Ned moaned softly when Ben broke the kiss, his fingers twitching on the fabric of Ben's suit.

“Ben, I … I'm not -” he started to protest, not quite sure what he was going to say, but knowing that he had to say something. Ben's lips interrupted him, another kiss, brief this time before Ben's lips quirked into an amused smile.

“Let's skip the part where you say I misunderstood the way you've been staring at me, hm?” Ben said gently. 

Ned had never really been aware of just how much taller and broader than him Ben was until now, with Ben's arm winding around his waist to pull him close, Ned having to look up at him to meet his eyes. Ben still had the same look in his eyes as before, friendly, benevolent, none of the mocking amusement Ned was used to from Sid. And suddenly a lot of things made so much more sense, the way Ben and Sid were always sitting so close to each other, how Ben put his arms around Sid's shoulders more than anyone else's, how they arrived and left together half the time.

“You do that with Sid, too?” Ned asked quietly, and it was a nice image to imagine Sid Rothman getting bent over by those strong hands, Sid on his knees with Ben's fingers tightening in his hair, Sid's smirk getting wiped off his face when Ben fucked his mouth. Ben laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world and shrugged, his shoulder muscles moving under Ned's hands.

“Then I doubt you doing this with me will endear me any more to Sid,” Ned said and smirked.

“Sid is used to sharing me, don't worry,” Ben replied. “I'll just ask him to join us next time, maybe he'll get over himself then. He always behaves a lot better when I'm there to watch him.”

Ben leant in to kiss the side of Ned's neck, while his hand started to undo Ned's tie, then the buttons of his shirt. And Ned certainly wasn't going to object too much to getting something he'd been thinking about since the first time he'd met Ben and Ben had shook his hand, so he quickly mirrored Ben's movements to get him out of his suit and shirt. He wasn't used to feeling scrawny next to other men, not until he felt Ben's broad chest under his fingertips. He bent his head down to kiss it, encouraged by the sharp breath Ben drew in. Ned was suddenly grateful for all the times he'd sneaked a glance or two at Ben with some girl on his lap because he already had a fair idea of what Ben liked, that he loved to have his chest touched, that he liked to have someone squirm against him like they were literally trying to climb him, and they were so close already that he could feel Ben's cock harden. Reached down to cup Ben through the expensive fabric of his suit, and damn if Ben wasn't every bit as big as Ned had imagined.

Ben's moans were deeper than his voice usually was, and he didn't seem to be any more patient in bed than he was in other matters. He grabbed Ned's hair firmly, although still not rough enough to hurt him, and began to force Ned down onto his knees. Ned didn't even think to resist him, his lips leaving a trail of quick kisses on Ben's chest and abs as he slid down, rubbed his cheek against Ben's groin as soon as he got the chance.

“Someone's pretty eager, hm?” Ben laughed, but it didn't sound mocking. Ned smiled as Ben's fingers combed through his hair, pulling him back while Ben's other hand opened his trousers. Ned bit back a gasp when the tip of Ben's cock brushed against his lips, long and thick enough to make Ned feel almost inadequate about his own, if he'd been in a state to feel bad about anything. Ned chuckled softly.

“You could have done this a lot earlier, you know?” He smiled against Ben's cock, gave it a tentative lick, appreciating the slight shudder that went through Ben's body.

“Yeah, but then you wouldn't have been this eager,” Ben replied, his grip on Ned's hair tightening to pull him close. Ned opened his mouth willingly, almost grateful that Ben didn't expect a reply, because there was really no need for him to admit that he would have been just as impatient and hungry for this a few months ago as he was now.

Ben was far less gentle about this than he'd been about kissing Ned, not letting him pull away as he thrust into Ned's mouth, and the soft little gagging sounds Ned made only seemed to encourage him. Ned closed his eyes as he felt tears welling up in them, but he couldn't bring himself to mind one bit, just tried his best to take as much as he could.

“That's it,” Ben mumbled, his voice breathy. He stroked Ned's hair gently, then grabbed it again. “There's a good boy.”

The words made Ned whimper, and without even thinking about it his hands went for his own cock, freeing it quickly from the confines of his trousers before wrapping his fingers around it. Some part of his brain pointed out that Ben might not think too highly of a man who got off that much on sucking cock, but Ned managed to ignore that annoyingly rational voice. If Ben was going to shoot him in the head after this, Ned was sure as hell going to enjoy himself first.

Ned gagged again as Ben's hips jerked forward, but at least Ben didn't grab his throat the way Sid sometimes did, and it was so much easier to take it like this. Ben kept talking, his voice low and breathless as he called Ned a good boy again, told him he was doing so well, that he was doing it just right, just the way Ben liked it, that he looked so damn pretty with his lips around Ben's cock. Ned's moans were muffled when he came into his own hand, probably still ruining his suit and Ben's, too, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when Ben's voice started to falter, his mumbling becoming incoherent, and Ned found himself thinking that he really hoped nobody was around because Ben got _loud_ as he came, moaning and cursing like a sailor.

His hands were far more gentle again when he pulled out and petted Ned's cheek, strong fingers wiping a drop of come off Ned's lips. Ned looked down, suddenly afraid of getting up and having Ben see that he'd come already, but he couldn't really resist as Ben grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him onto his feet, his lips quirking into an amused smile.

“I could have helped you with that,” he said gently, his voice still a little gruff. Ned flushed, couldn't meet Ben's eyes.

“Should've told me that before,” he mumbled. Ben kissed him again, slow and languid now that he'd had what he wanted, and Ned found himself relaxing a little. 

“Keep it in mind for the next time,” Ben said against Ned's lips, his arms tightening around Ned's body again, and Ned let out a relieved little laugh.

 

Lying in his bed back home, his hand still resting on his thigh and too lazy and content to get out of bed just yet to clean up, Ned smiled a little. He wished his meetings with Ben would really go that way, instead of leaving him with an awkward hard-on and a desperate wish that someone would finally teach Ben Siegel what personal space was.


	6. Ned & Ben: Summertime (and the livin' is easy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Mob City Monday: a glimpse at the beginning of Ned's life in Los Angeles and in Ben Siegel's entourage.

When Ned first fixed a substantial problem for Meyer Lansky – he'd managed to get the charges against one of Lansky's top guys dropped, without letting the affair even go to trial – Lansky had thanked him with a firm handshake, calm praise for his good work, and a rather generous bonus. Ned had used the money to buy a beautiful Swiss watch he'd been eyeing for months and to order several elegant suits from one of New York's finest tailors. He'd felt quite content. It was the first time in his life that someone had rewarded his efforts not only appropriately, but quite generously.

Ben Siegel, that much was obvious from the moment Ned met the man, was nothing like Mr Lansky. It would still amaze Ned sometimes that the two were apparently such good friends, because Ben Siegel seemed to be the kind of man Lansky would usually despise: loud, flashy, rash and spontaneous. He was also utterly charming. Ned liked him as soon as Ben shook his hand, clasped his shoulder and said with a smile, “At least this time Meyer sent me someone who knows how to dress.”

At first Ned thought it was merely superficial charm. Ben had a smile that made women invite him to their beds and made men give him their money; when he talked, he could make people believe in anything; when he addressed someone directly, he made them feel like the centre of the world. Ned was too smart to be fooled by it, to think that Ben cared about him just because he could make Ned feel like he did, but he still enjoyed Ben's company greatly. And sure, sometimes Ben was a handful, he was easily irritated and had a violent temper, but if anything that only added to his charm. It made it seem all the more precious to be on his good side.

And when Ned brought in his first big win for Ben, only a few weeks after arriving in Los Angeles ( _let's see what you can do, Stax; if you're as good as Meyer says, I'm not going to waste your talents on small-time bullshit_ ), the differences between Ben and Mr Lansky were as obvious as ever. Ben slung his arm around Ned's shoulder and hugged him like an old friend, dragged him from the courthouse directly to the Clover and promised Ned the night of his life. He'd made it his personal mission that night to get Ned drunk out of his mind, had put a cigar in Ned's mouth and a gorgeous blonde dancer in his lap, had happily chatted with him for hours about his plans for Las Vegas and told him a few crazy stories about the good old days. That night, for all that he didn't really enjoy being that drunk and wasn't too interested in the girl on his lap, Ned had first felt as if Ben truly liked him, instead of just charming him out of habit. And he'd been as drunk on the attention as he'd been on the Scotch and the champagne Ben kept pouring for him.

As they parted ways that night, each of them drunkenly staggering into a cab with a girl on his arm, Ben invited him to Sunday lunch at his house that weekend, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Told him he'd pick him up at 1 pm, and that Ned should bring his wife chocolates because she liked them better than flowers anyway.

On Sunday Ned half expected Ben not to show – because Ned wasn't family, he was just Ben's lawyer – but Ben actually arrived few minutes early, honking loudly until Ned came outside. He was just getting out of a gorgeous blue convertible that was gleaming in the summer sun as Ned left the house, greeted him with a handshake and a pat on the shoulder while he smiled at him over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Nice car,” Ned said, running his fingers over the hood. “New?”

“Yeah,” Ben said and tossed him the keys with a casual little laugh before getting into the passenger seat. “Come on, give her a test drive, to see if you like her.”

A bit confused, Ned got into the car, and he had to bite back a small groan when he sank into the leather seat. Most armchairs weren't that comfortable. He touched the steering wheel lightly.

“Obviously I like her, but ...”

“Great,” and Ben smiled at him like that was all he had needed to hear to make his day perfect. “She's yours, I got the paperwork and all that at my house, remind me to give it to you after lunch.” 

And Ned had tried to protest, not quite sure if Ben wasn't maybe pranking him, but Ben had dismissed his objections as nonsense and told him to get going unless he wanted them to be late, and then Esta would have both their heads.

Ned had been at Ben's home once before, had even met his wife then – a dark-haired woman who must have been stunning in her youth and was still quite beautiful – but it was different now, with both Mickey and Terry and their families there, women's voices coming from the kitchen and children running through the garden. Ned glanced out of the large window in the dining room to see Sid Rothman just outside, with a smile more friendly than Ned had ever seen on him, chatting and laughing with a 14-year-old girl who Ned assumed was Ben's eldest daughter Milly, and who seemed as comfortable around Sid as if she didn't have the slightest idea just what kind of work he did for her father. She probably didn't.

It was odd, to see them with their families when he was used to Mickey breaking faces, Sid and Terry killing people, and Ben seducing a different girl every other night instead of complimenting his wife's cooking, but he still enjoyed the feeling of being included in this, like he'd somehow earned his way from being just the new lawyer to being someone Ben actually trusted. Like being part of the family, except that wasn't really what that filled Ned with a strange, pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat either. He'd never had a particularly close relationship with any of his relatives nor had he ever missed it, and if he was quite honest he could think of more interesting ways to spend his Sunday than listening to Mrs Cohen go on about how much of a rascal her eldest son was, even if the lunch he got out of it was delicious.

It was the fact that Ben _wanted_ him here in the first place that mattered, alongside people like Sid, who'd been Ben's closest friend since his childhood, and Mickey, his second-in-command in most of his operations. 

He realised then, sipping on his wine and almost shaking his head in disbelief as he watched Sid across the table smile as he listened to Milly talk about the horse her daddy had bought her for her riding lessons, what the most important difference between Meyer Lansky and Ben Siegel was. Mr Lansky had made Ned feel like his work truly appreciated, but Ben appreciated Ned himself. Obviously not for entirely unselfish reasons, not when Ned was that useful, but Ben still felt like a friend in a way that Meyer Lansky probably never would have had, even if Ned had stayed in New York for his whole life. There was something far more genuine, almost affectionate, about the way Ben smiled at him now, compared to just a few weeks before. 

He was grateful for the car that was waiting for him outside, but he could have bought that from his own money. But Ben Siegel had given him more than just wealth, and Ned had received little enough kindness in his life not to forget this.


End file.
